


Ventaalar at Flameborn

by ovr4tee



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Gen, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24781618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ovr4tee/pseuds/ovr4tee
Summary: Whilst on a quest through the Valarixian Empire, a group of four adventurers arrive at the city of Flameborn. It is the first real civilization they have been in since the start of the quest, many weeks ago, and the group's Cleric is eager to visit the city's temple to his patron goddess, Selûne, for some counsel and spiritual nourishment.
Relationships: Original D&D Character(s)/Selune (Forgotten Realms)





	1. The Temple Beckons

The city walls were a welcome sight to the band of travelers. After an eventful start to the short trip upriver they had finally arrived in the northern city of Flameborn. With time to spend in the city, the group agreed to split up, while each pursued their own interests. Ventaalar headed straight for the temple of Selûne.

The gates to the temple's outer courtyards shone with the silver stars and deep blue eyes of the goddess. The symbol had been split in half and designed so that each gate was emblazoned with three stars and one of the eyes, each a perfect mirror image of the other. The large star atop the symbol was held above the gates in a beautifully intricate metallic archway that was almost imperceptible, giving the impression that the large eye was floating. Being mid-afternoon, the gates were ajar, with a priest stood at each side of the opening, each wearing robes with finely embroidered emblems of Selûne upon their front. They each had a basic wooden shield painted with the same icon slung upon their backs and a mace hung upon their belts, with handles made of a dark wood and a silvery, spherical head.

The guards saw him approach and their hands gripped the hilts of their maces. As he approached the opening in the gateway, he nodded at the guards and brandished his holy symbol. The guards relaxed and smiled. The guard to the left was first to speak.

"Well met, by the grace of the Moonmaiden."

"Well met, indeed. I trust Our Lady of Silver has been gracious and favorable to this place?"

"Indeed, she has," replied the other guard. "Are you here to commune with Her, or to see the Priests for counsel or healing?"

"My journey here has been long and tiring. But whilst my physical needs have been addressed with a good meal, at one of the fine hostelries hereabouts, I now seek some metaphysical sustenance, and a good dose of worldly counsel, but with the High Priestess."

"Ah… indeed. Well, the main temple is ahead of you, as you can see. Make your way there and look for one of the Deacons, they will provide you with all that you need. May the Moon light your path!"

"Thank you. And may the Moon light your way, also."

The three men bowed their heads to each other, before Ventaalar continued along the paved way that bisected the courtyard. Within a minute he was inside the main temple building. He did not even need to search for a Deacon, as one approached him before he was even fully through the doorway, both exchanging greetings and pleasantries. He explained his needs, and soon found himself kneeling at the main shrine, making a small offering of the milk that had been brought to him. He then closed his eyes in meditation. It seemed like he had only been in meditation for moments before he was returned to the mundane, by a gentle touch upon his shoulder.

"My apologies for startling you, Sir, but the Priestess Oristra has only a short window in her schedule and can see you now," came the gentle voice of the Deacon.

"Of course," he replied, standing up and straightening his robes. As he followed the young Deacon out of the shrine, he was surprised to see that dusk was falling. Obviously, his meditations had gone on a lot longer than a few minutes. They crossed the courtyard, this time in a diagonal manner, to the left. There was no paving upon the path they trod, but there was an obvious track in the gravel, where years of people passing that way had compressed the small stones.

"I believe we are in for one of those strange nights that starts with a waning moonlight," said the Deacon, making a little small talk as they walked together.

"Indeed. Though it may be only a short time, it is always welcoming to see even a sliver of The White Night Lady, during the darkness. I have learnt that there are way too many places in this world where She does not shine."

"Hmm. It is the unnatural origin of some of those places that concern me," she replied, a touch of concern in her voice. "Here we are, Sir," she quickly continued, as one wishing to change an uncomfortable topic of conversation.

She knocked at the door, and a gentle voice from within bade them enter.

They both stepped inside the room. The Deacon bowed a little, then took her leave. The High Priestess was already stood up. Ventaalar was surprised to see such a relatively young woman, probably not much older than he.

"Well met, by the grace of the Moonmaiden, traveler."

She beckoned him to sit at the chair on the other side of the small desk that she was stood behind.

"Well met, Priestess Oristra."

He sat down and looked at her, awaiting her to initiate conversation. Instead she just looked back at him, holding his gaze to the point that he started to feel a little unnerved. He shifted a little, wanting to avert his eyes, yet also unable to. Suddenly the High Priestess blinked and smiled.

"I understand you have been traveling with a small group, looking to end this creeping darkness? An admirable focus of time and effort. How may I help you, young…?"

He smiled back, as much in response to her smile as it was in relief that she had broken her gaze.

"Ventaalar, Priestess. Ventaalar Fanleth, of Gladholm. It is quite the coincidence that you mention focus, Priestess. These last few weeks I have felt little focus. In fact, apart from the incident where I re-consecrated a Temple of the Moonmaiden, I would say my focus, at least spiritually, has been… missing. I have taken something of a backseat role with our group, holding my healing abilities in reserve, until needed, yet it is leaving me unfulfilled, on some level.

We have also found ourselves allied with a Warlock, and the young Wizard in our group has found mentorship with him, for her yearning for Necromancy. Whilst I have no real objection to either the relationship, nor the focus that she, Amalthea, has chosen, there is something I find a little unnerving.

And now the Rogue in our party has been marked by a God and we have even more divine energy flowing within our small band..." he let his voice trail off.

"Hm. I Can see where you may be concerned. However, I have no doubts in you, at all. I communed with Selûne, once I knew of your presence here, and of your request for an audience with me. Selûne will not desert you. You have great potential, as you showed at that temple. I think all you need is a couple of days here, with us, meditating and living the life of a cloistered priest."

Before he could respond she had stood up and clapped her hands together twice. The door opened and the same Deacon as before opened the door and stood, awaiting further instruction.

"Diantha, take Ventaalar to one of the meditation cells, and see that he is comfortable. He is to stay with us to the morning after next, so he will need a bed, also."

"Yes, Priestess," replied young Diantha.

"I shall speak with you again, upon the time of your leaving us. In the meantime, may the Moonmaiden smile upon thee."

"Thank you, Priestess," he replied, standing at once, from his chair. Oristra moved from behind her desk and held out her hand. Without thinking of protocols, or manners, Ventaalar moved with her, and met her at the end of the desk, before kneeling before her. He took her hand, resting her fingers in between his thumb and forefinger, placing it gently upon his forehead as he closed his eyes. After a few moments he removed the hand from his forehead, stood up and bowed, kissed the large moonstone that was set into a ring upon the Priestess' finger, released her hand and then bowed once more.

"And may Our Lady of Silver walk with us all," he said, still bowed.

"So mote it be, young Ventaalar. Now, well met and well parted! Diantha will take care of you. We shall speak again," she responded smiling a kindly, maternal smile all the while.

He turned to look at Diantha, who by now was stood at the door smiling at him. She beckoned him to the doorway. As he headed that way, he saw her make eye contact with Oristra and her welcoming smile took on a slightly more amused demeanor. He shot a glance over his shoulder, catching a similar look in the Priestess' façade. Apparently, his manner had been the source of some amusement.

The walked through the doorway and into the cloister, Diantha closing the heavy wooden door behind her. They had barely moved away from the door when she spoke, a hint of delight lingering in her voice.

"The Lady Oristra merely offered her hand for a handshake, Ventaalar. I do not think anyone has ever offered her as much reverence in their actions, outside of ceremony, as you just did."

"Well then, I am glad to be the source of some levity in this world, in this moment," he replied, trying to sound put out, but his own humor at his enthusiastic response, since it had been pointed out to him, was hard to contain. "It has been many weeks, months even, since I have felt such a radiance of the hope and the love of the Night White Lady. It washed over me, briefly, as I re-consecrated the temple we chanced across, some weeks back, but for the most part, I have felt…" he paused, for a few paces, searching for the right word.

"Lost? Alone? Forsaken?" suggested the deacon.

"No… not exactly. Just… unfocused. It seems whenever I cast anything but a healing spell the results are not certain. It feels like most of the time the spell fizzles. My mace is as trusty a weapon as one could hold, but a lot of those entities we encounter seem so strong, to me, and thinking on it now, even my melee attacks seem less than effective. I see the others in our group wielding their weapons of choice, whether steel or enchantment, and using their skills to such great effect, and yet I…" he let the sentence trail.

"Focus and belief in yourself and your abilities is lacking, it seems. A night of meditating with the Moonmaiden will refresh you, refocus you and renew your self-belief, I am sure. May I suggest a milkfast, before you do so?"

"Thank you, Diantha. I shall take you up on that suggestion."

"Of course. I shall take you to the refectory."


	2. Communing With Selûne

The main temple was busy with the last of the daily rituals of the Selûnite Order. Evening incantations followed by the reception of the general populace for healing and counsel from the Order members. The pattern would be repeated after each of the three meals of the day. Diantha had shown Ventaalar to a side room.

The room was barely six feet square, but it was more than adequate for individuals to meditate in private. Atop a small dais in the middle of the eastern wall sat a small alabaster statuette of Selûne. At her feet the dais had been hollowed out slightly with a hole drilled in its bottom. To the left of the dais sat a small wooden table, decorated in the blue and white commonplace in articles dedicated to the goddess. A matching metal jug, two-thirds full of fresh milk, and a wooden chalice sat on the table, decorated in the same colors and patterns as the table and, indeed, the rest of the room. A small, silvery-white cushion sat on the floor in front of the dais, imprints from hundreds, maybe even thousands of knees, over the years.

As soon as he had taken stock of his surroundings, he checked that the door was closed and latched, before disrobing. His sect of Selûnites had always meditated, worshipped and celebrated "moonclad". In the outside world, away from the monastic enclave he had grown up in, spiritually speaking, he had always tried to maintain that tradition where possible, and this was the first time in a long time he had been able to do so.

A shaft of moonlight came through the small window at the top of the eastern wall. The warmth upon his shoulders felt good, although it was not as spiritually refreshing as fully bathing in a moonbeam would have been, he satisfied himself with the thought that maybe that would happen later on in his stay here, though he should probably check that it was acceptable outside of this locked holy cell.

He took the couple of steps to the table and poured from the jug, filling the chalice about halfway with milk. He moved himself to be stood in front of the dais and statuette, took a deep breath and raised the chalice high into that same beam of lunar light.

"Hear me, O Selûne! Our Lady of Silver… Moonmaiden… You are the Night White Lady, Bright Nydra, Elah, Lucha and Sehanine Moonbow."

He took a small sip of the milk, before pouring a little out into the hollow on the dais and watching it drain away before returning the chalice to its moonbeam bathed position, held high.

"These names, and more, we, your followers call you and I now beseech you come to me. Enter my thoughts and see my fears. Be in my memories and help me understand. Bring your spirit into mine and renew my belief in myself."

The process of sipping, pouring and re-raising the chalice was repeated between each line he spoke. Finally, when no more was to be said, he stood there a while, cup raised, before kneeling upon the cushion, placing the chalice back on the table. He started to regulate his breathing. Slow, deep breaths, each exhale emptying his lungs, each inhalation filling them back up. Once he felt the rhythm was perfect, he started a low humming, which eventually grew into a low chant.

"Moonmaiden, Selûne; Silver Lady, take us in. Moonmaiden, Selûne; let us be renewed."

He slowly lost track of time and the space around him, as he repeated the chant. Maybe he had repeated the phrase for a couple minutes. Maybe thirty. It could have been an hour or two. He did not know; he just felt his physical and mental presence feeling more and more ethereal. The sensation got to a point where his voice and speech lowered in tone enough to become nothing but a melodic humming, once more.

Suddenly he was stood, naked and bathed in a bright white light. A shaft of light beyond which was naught but dark blue nothingness. The sand beneath him was cool under his feet and between his toes. He felt rooted to the spot, but he was not afraid. Slowly silver stars danced out of the darkness beyond in a slow spiral around him. She was coming.

Out of the darkness stepped a slim form of a woman, her dark skin stood out through the gossamer gown of silvery-white that she wore. Her bright blue eyes pierced him, seeing deep into his soul, his memories, his hopes and dreams and his fears. He wanted to cry but could not. He wanted to speak, but words and his voice failed him.

Then he felt her speak. Thoughts straight into his head.

"Ventaalar. I have been watching you. I have even bestowed upon you a gift. An incantation. Yet still you still seem to be looking for me. But I do not have the answers you seek. I cannot see the future of you and your companions. I do not see what will become of Qadazh, though I, like other deities who strive for the good things of life, such as compassion, love and respect are all helping in our own way, as are the forces opposing us. But this struggle is not to be ours. It is for men and orcs, elves and goblins, dwarves and ogres, and all the mortal creatures of this realm.

But what I have seen is the power within you, young Ventaalar. You have the energy and courage, the respect and compassion. You have already made an impact in the short time you have been out in the world, making a name for yourself. I saw you at that temple, and I responded. My Hammer is not enough to prove to you what you already know?

I will be with you every step of the way, in this journey, Ventaalar. I will be the cool breeze that stands up the hairs on the back of your neck. I will be that gut feeling. I will be that urge to do what is right. I will be the power that heals comrades-in-arms, in this struggle. And in your darkest moments, call to me and I will bring what light I can.

Go back, now Ventaalar. Ventaalar the Called. Ventaalar Bachgle'riaf. You are not alone. None of you. Remember that. Remember…"

Her voice echoed away and suddenly, Ventaalar found himself stood back in the meditation room. Sunlight was coming through the opening above the altar. He stood, taking stock of all that had happened and coming to realize how energized and… light, he felt. Light? Was that the right word. He thought for a moment and stood engulfed in the feeling. Yes… light. The burden of doubt and uncertainty had been lifted, as sure as if a boulder had fallen off his shoulder. He knew that he was on the right path, no matter the outcome. Succeed or fail, he and his companions were in this together and could rely on each other and were being cheered on by celestial forces. A knock at the door, and a familiar voice brought him back into the now.

"Ventaalar? It is morning."

"Yes, I see that," he replied with a smile in his voice. "You may come in, but I am moonclad, at the moment," he continued with an audible laugh in his voice. The door creaked open slowly.

"Moonclad," Diantha asked from behind the opening door. "What do you mean…OH!" she exclaimed, as she caught sight of the back of the naked cleric. Blushing bright red, she took to hiding back behind the door, looking around the cloister in embarrassment.

Ventaalar was unaware of her blushing and hiding, his back had been to the doorway and he was just pulling on his undergarments as she had entered.

"I… er… do not… um… think… we... er… allow moonclad here…"

"Well… it doesn't matter now. Besides Selûne didn't seem to mind," he continued, sliding on his robes.

"You mean… she spoke with you."

"Oh yes. Can you not tell?!"

He reached for the door handle and opened it wide. Though fully dressed, he still surprised Diantha.

"Oh! Er… that's better! Are you hungry?"

"Famished. I hope there is more than milkfast fare available. Come. We shall breakfast together, and I shall talk, and you can listen, and then find me an audience with Oristra. Unless she is willing to join us, to save my retelling."

The two hurried down the cloister towards the dining hall, Ventaalar talking excitedly as they went, and Diantha making little gasps of astonishment at every new piece of the story she was being told.


End file.
